


Some Walls and a Roof

by Gileonnen



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Last City Reconstruction, Non-Lethal Uses for a Sniper Rifle, Other, Post-Red War, Worst Thing about Losing Your Light Is Losing Your Jump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25275790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gileonnen/pseuds/Gileonnen
Summary: After the Red War, Hellion-2 and Idran go looking for their apartment building--and find it in pieces.
Relationships: Guardian/Guardian (Destiny)
Kudos: 21





	Some Walls and a Roof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astahfrith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astahfrith/gifts).



The night they retake the Last City from the Red Legion, Hellion-2 and Idran pick their way through the ruins back to their apartment building. The transmat network's jacked up, but it's almost a relief to go on foot--Hellion's missed the way the Light catches beneath bootsoles at each leap, like a hidden stair exactly where Hellion needs it.

Hellion's missed the Light.

Even with Idran's map-perfect memory of the City, they get lost more than once. Old landmarks lie scattered across six city blocks; familiar roads and plazas are all studded with pre-fab Cabal fortifications. In one place, the water main's broken, and Idran stops them at the break to weld the pipes closed again with searing Solar heat.

Hellion perches atop a nearby apartment building to spot for them while they work, scanning the empty streets through a sniper rifle's scope. Most of the Cabal are in full rout, but they've had time to get entrenched here. Probably not enough left to make a stand, but there will be pockets who couldn't get out before the Guardians got in. Centurions who'd rather die on a distant world than fail to return victorious. The Tower will be flushing Cabal from their hiding places for weeks to come.

The streets stay quiet. Tense as Hellion is, nothing's moving. There's only the hiss of boiling water and the grinding of metal on metal, the crack of distant gunfire and the steady chug of anti-air turrets.

Eventually, Idran climbs back up again. Their clothes steam faintly as Solar light sears them dry, and Hellion just wants to lean into that warmth and rest there on the shitty tar-paper roof. "We're close," Idran says, low. "Almost home." It shouldn't help to hear, but it does.

Up from balcony to balcony; long jump to the glass-sided office building with the huge network array on the roof. Hellion nearly misses the edge--has a horrible long moment to feel the final death approaching--then closes steady fingers on the side of an air filtration unit and clambers onto it.

Hellion looks down. The drop's long enough to kill a human. The regular kind of human, anyway. Would've killed Hellion, a few hours ago. It'd be a hell of a thing, to have survived the whole Red War and then to die falling.

Turning away from that drop, Hellion leaps up and mantles the edge of the building, then drops lightly down to the roof. Idran's waiting there, shadowed by the receptor array, worry creasing their brows. Shouldn't make them worry, some damn stupid thing like missing a jump--and they know it, or they'd be asking. _You all right?_ they'd say, as though they haven't killed Hellion a thousand times with swords and guns and hand grenades. They're Risen. _Are you all right_ is for the guilt they carry, not for the bodies they break.

Hellion reaches for Idran's hand, and Idran takes it. Their grip is like a vise.

At the edge of the building, while automated aerials skim the sky for signals from the Orbital Grid, they look out over the streets at the husk of their apartment building. The east side--their side--has been blown completely away.

They stand together for a moment, listening to the skirmishes die down behind them. Hellion takes out the sniper rifle again, skimming the twisted mess of concrete and rebar for anything recognizable. Furniture. Valuables. Even just the black and gold bathroom tiles that had set off Idran's skin so handsomely.

There's nothing to see but dust and debris.

Eventually, Idran leaps down, catching themself on thin air at the very base of the building. Hellion follows behind, two careful jumps that wash Hellion out at the very edge of the delta of rubble. "Fuck," says Hellion softly. "I liked this place."

Idran kneels at the edge of the pile to sift through the concrete with their fingertips. Fragments of other people's lives come to light: a toothbrush. A mug handle. A broken glass paperweight. "There's so much to rebuild," says Idran, straightening at last. "Not just for us--for everyone. Infrastructure, housing, the Tower. And shelter, provisions, and hygiene for the interim. The Red War may be over, but our fight is just beginning."

Even after all these centuries, it makes Hellion's chest go tight to see Idran's face set with purpose. Hellion has always loved how the first thing Idran thinks of is what must be built. "Long days for you at City Planning."

"Yeah." Idran looks up at their building, silhouetted white against the starry sky. The faint wind stirs their pale, fine hair. "We'll find another place. I promise."

"Or I'll make you one."

Idran turns to Hellion. "Or you'll--"

"Make you one." Hellion reaches for Idran's hand and kisses it, just a cool press of sculpted mouth to knuckles. "A house of our own. Somewhere we can come home to each other."

Idran smiles, kissing Hellion's hand in turn. "If it were just a sleeping bag on the ground, and you were there, it would still feel like coming home."

"It's _been_ a sleeping bag on the ground," huffs Hellion. "And will be for some time to come. Romance is romance, but I'd like some walls and a roof."

"And a bed," says Idran. "I've missed sharing a bed with you."

"There will be time." Hellion draws Idran in until their brows touch, until the warmth of their faces commingles in the cool night air. "There's work still to do. You're right. But there's time to do it, now." "The rest of our lives." Idran smiles against Hellion's mouth. Against their lips, Hellion says, "And somewhere in our lifetimes, we'll find time to rest."


End file.
